


Proper Standards for Rest and Relaxation

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s01e10 Points, Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: George wants to make sure Carwood is upholding the standards of the 506th.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/George Luz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Band of Boyfriends Kisstober Challenge 2020





	Proper Standards for Rest and Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

> Written (belatedly) for Kisstober Prompt: Nose Kisses.
> 
> Thanks to Cai for looking it over.

Battalion staff turned out to involve a little more work than sunning himself, but Carwood couldn't deny that he had more time for R&R in Austria than he'd seen since before Market Garden. Late one afternoon, not long after his transfer, he found himself lounging on the balcony outside his room. Ostensibly, he was going over a supply list for the S4, but mostly that looked like drumming the butt of his pencil on the clipboard and staring idly out at the reflection of the mountains on the still waters of the lake.

It didn't feel like he was in another country here, it felt like another damn planet entirely, maybe something from one of Liebgott's space adventure comic books. Everything about this place was so far from Huntingdon that Carwood's mind couldn't quite fathom it—the only point in common the unmistakably American voices ringing up from the square below, and even those sounded distant.

He had no idea how he was going to be able to go back to West Virginia and shake the double vision of what the world could be, both the beautiful and the horrific. Carwood had to wonder if any of them were going to be able to settle back into anything like the lives they'd had before. Maybe George would; the man's ability to roll with the punches and come up laughing had never stopped astonishing Carwood.

Like his thoughts had summoned him, Carwood heard a tap on the door, immediately followed by a sloppily saluting George Luz.

"Message from Major Winters, sir," George said, holding out a piece of paper.

Carwood took it, glanced at it, and set it on the stack of papers he could worry about later. "Tomorrow's PT schedule is so important that Winters sent a T3 to make sure it got to me?"

George was leaning on the railing and looking out of the lake, not having been told he could stand at ease, nor seeming to care. "Oh, no, the major sent a PFC's who ain't old enough to shave," George told him, "then I took it off the PFC, 'cause I wanted to make sure you weren't working too hard up here."

Carwood set the clipboard aside and made a show of leaning back in the wicker armchair and folding his arms behind his head. "And how am I doing?" he asked.

"Just about up to the standard of slacking off your current rank requires, sir," George concluded after giving him a very serious once over.

"Just about?" Carwood asked, he could feel his body heat, and he wasn't sure if it was from the attention, or the knowledge that he was enjoying the attention. And enjoying it he was. Carwood had never thought of himself as especially vain, but he couldn't deny that he liked when someone looked at him with that extra bit of attention that saw past the stripes on his sleeve or the bar on his collar to the man underneath. George was very good at that, and very popular because of that. It was flattering that he would spend time checking in on Carwood, when he himself could have been slacking off with the rest of the Company.

George stepped closer, peering down at Carwood with exaggerated interest, almost miming a monocle clamped in one eye. He only stopped when he stood with his feet on either side of Carwood's outstretched legs, their calves brushing just above the tops of their boots. Bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, George leaned forward until their faces were inches apart. "The 506th Parainfantry Regiment has the highest standards of any unit in the United States Airborne," he said, sounding just a little too much like Colonel Sink for someone nearly lying on top of Carwood, "and we expect every trooper to do his damnedest to uphold those standards in all areas."

The flush spreading across Carwood's face had to be visible from across the lake. George had put more weight on the word "areas," and Carwood could feel one area in particular noticing that emphasis. Given how close George was, he could hardly miss Carwood's arousal, especially in his officer's pinks, which had less room in them than an enlisted men's service uniform trousers.

Carwood licked his lips before asking, "Even in the field of slacking off?" He meant his tone to be playful, a slowball tossed back to match George's easy pitch, but he could hear his voice cracking at the edge of the question.

He hadn't thought it was possible for George to get any closer without falling on top of him, but he leaned down until their noses almost brushed. "In _all_ areas," George drawled. "Especially in the field of slacking off."

Their bodies were so near that all it took was a slight shift of George's weight, accompanied by a creak in the wicker chair, and the fronts of their trousers brushed, the buttons clicking against each other. It was only the lightest of contact, but Carwood could feel that George was just as turned on as he was, and that George had to know exactly what effect he was having on the man underneath him.

"And frankly, sir," George added, thankfully no longer sounding at all like any of their COs, past or present, "I think you could be a little more relaxed."

Slowly, not sure how this could really be happening, or why his fantasies seemed to be taking form, Carwood started to unfold his arms. He reached for the back of George's neck, meaning to pull him down either into a kiss, or into his lap.

Before he could, George himself closed the space between them, leaning in and kissing Carwood firmly on the tip of his nose.

Carwood had started to gasp only to choke on a laugh, and miss his chance.

George straightened, snapped a salute—a real one this time—and spun around, walking off the little balcony with a wiggle in his hips. He did not, Carwood noticed, go through Carwood's room to the hallway beyond, but seemed to take the left leading to Carwood's bedroom.

"I'll be damned," Carwood murmured, thinking again about how very far from West Virginia he was, how good it'd felt to have someone so close, and how hard his dick was. How, sometimes in the months since Foy, when he'd found himself looking at George, he'd noticed that George was looking back.

Carwood pushed himself to his feet, and followed George into the bedroom, meaning to find out exactly how relaxed he could get.


End file.
